


Proof That Alastor Moody Has A Heart

by casstayinmyass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU No Tri Wizard Tournament, Angst and Romance, Awkward Romance, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flirting, Hogwarts Professors, Kindred Spirits, Loneliness, Random Encounters, Rarepair, Sappy Moody, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Moody is hired as the new DADA professor. Throughout the semester, he keeps running into a certain Divination teacher with eccentricity that rivals his own, who has a strange sort of effect on him... but that's all rubbish, anyway.





	Proof That Alastor Moody Has A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This ship wasn't a thing, so I made it a thing. I don't even know what this is.

Alastor Moody had always been fascinated by Hogwarts. The old stone walls, the secrets the castle held. He was a curious man by nature, and had always sought out answers to his curiosities when he had attended the school, and if he got caught after hours out of bed, his answer: well, why have all these little nooks and crannies around this place if you can't explore them?

Yes, Hogwarts had treated Moody well, which is why it was a great honour for him to accept a teaching position as the new professor for Defence Against The Dark Arts. Dumbledore wouldn't have considered him for anything else, really, but it is an unfortunate situation how he came to obtain the position. That poor bloke Lupin, whom Moody remembered from his school days, resigned after his, eh... _condition_ was made public. In his younger years, Moody might have joined the mob in demanding that beast be kept away from everyone. But, ever since his own disabilities had earned him a disapproving glance or two, he understood, in a funny way.

Make no mistake though, Alastor had made sure that no one even had the chance to see his disabilities before the man under them. He was dangerous, ruthless, a lone wolf. He liked being on his own. He did! Living alone meant there was no possible leverage Voldemort or his followers could get from him, like taking a possible wifey hostage or two possible doe-eyed daughters.

The more he thought of it, the more the older wizard found himself wishing he had someone to protect. Sure, he protected himself (and the whole bloody rest of the wizarding world if you asked him), but that got old sometimes. It would be different to have someone who looks at you with big, wide eyes after you've saved them. To have someone toss their arms around you. To have someone see you after a hard-fought battle, and run into your arms with the force of a--

"OH!"

Moody was startled out of his thoughts as a great force hit him, and he looked down to see a wild-haired woman scrambling to pick up half a dozen crystal balls.

"Merlin's beard, I didn't mean like that," the Auror grumbled to himself, and the woman stood suddenly and grabbed his hands.

"Oh! Oh, I didn't hurt anything, did I? Oh you poor dear, I'm so so sor--"

"Poor dear?" Moody snapped, snatching his hands away, "I'm just fine. You... you should be careful with all those."

"Yes, yes, I've been telling myself that all day," the woman said boisterously, waving her hand in the air, "You see I'm a perfect hazard when I've got all these things to carry. I've been looking around for a student or two who'd like to dedicate their time to helping me carry things back and forth to my classroom, but..." she leaned in, a little close for Moody's liking, "The children seem to think I've got _bats in the belfry_."

"Imagine that," Moody muttered.

"Oh, but I do apologize, I didn't mean to disrupt your day. Carry on, carry on!" she trilled, squeezing his hands, and began to pick up her crystals. Moody was rooted to the spot, and the other professor noticed. "Is there... something else I can apologize for?" she offered nervously, and Moody made the effort of bending his knee to help her. The woman's already buggy eyes bugged even more, and Moody cleared his throat.

"I suppose you already know me." He looked up quickly. "From the welcoming feast, of course, not... I didn't mean..." _Well, no wonder you don't have any friends, you self righteous prick._

"I do know you, Professor Moody," she smiled, "I was the shy girl in the corner playing with useless little spells while you, in all your glory, were being celebrated."  

"What was your name again?" Moody cursed himself for not remembering who she was.

"Sybill Trelawney."

"And what do you teach?"

Sybill took one look at him, then down at the balls, then back up, and it dawned on Moody all too late to not be embarrassing.

"Oh. Of course. Ehm, right." Sybil began to tilt her head, and she inched a little closer.

"You're... preoccupied."

Moody began to panic. "What?"

"There's something important on your mind." She held out her hands. "May I?"

He glanced down at her. If she could see the future and all that, she could tell the entire school that the legendary Alastor Moody had girls on the mind. No sir.

"Actually, I've got to be going. Sorry for running into you," Moody murmured, and Sybill closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"No no no, it was _my_ \--" When she opened her eyes, she realized he was gone. "Fault. Hm." She cocked her head. "Was it something I said?"

Moody walked briskly to his classroom, avoiding the stares of some awestricken students. He pretended not to hear the stories being whispered as he walked by, like one that said his Eye sees all, and it could even see behind his back. There was another that said if anyone got on his bad side, he could take off his leg and stab you with it.

That one was creative, he'd give them that.

_"Quick, get into class!"_

_"Moody's coming!"_

_"Get going, hurry!"_

_"That eye is watching me again..."_

"Alright children, in your seats, or I'll be forced to run you through with my metal leg," Moody smiled, walking to the front, and everyone shut up instantly. He chuckled to himself, then dropped the smile, turning around. "Have any of you seen a real Auror before?"

"My parents were Aurors," one kid said proudly, and Moody lifted his chin.

"Ah. Do I know them?"

She shook her head. "They're dead... both my mums."

Moody took a deep breath, and realized the tough luck approach he planned to take with this class was about to go right out the window. He came to the side of her desk... she couldn't be more than 13.

"I reckon... no. I'm _certain_ , that your mums were some of the bravest witches out there." He gave her a rough pat on the shoulder, and stood straight again, shaking off the sentimental rubbish. "Now that that's settled-- in these dark times, it is not uncommon to hear stories like these from many young people like yourselves. You Know Who does not have _any_ reservations about ripping apart families, do you hear me?! That brings me to why I'm here. I'm going to prepare you all to fend off any sort of dark magic, curses, hexes, jinxes, or any kind of spells that will endanger your lives."

"Sounds like you're going to endanger _our_ lives," Draco snickered at the back, and Moody immediately whipped an incendio spell at his desk, setting his papers ablaze and scaring the blonde boy into a state.

"Any more questions?" he asked. Just then, he heard a crash in the hallway, and directed his attention to the doorway. After what sounded like some fussing, he saw a flash of purple, and a crystal ball roll by the door.

His lips almost... _almost_ twitched up. 

* * *

The next few weeks saw Moody gaining admirers all over the school, with an "innovative" teaching style. This really just meant that he had the kids do the work themselves, with little to no input except if asked. He wasn't as kind as Lupin had been, and he wasn't about to protect them the same way he had-- that wasn't how the world worked, and no matter how young you are, you must learn that.

It was nearing the Christmas holidays now, and Moody found himself enjoying the atmosphere. As much as he loved to deny it, Christmas always got to him, and to be spending it in one of his favourite places was a real treat. 

"Joining in the festivities, Moody?" Hagrid (who had a giant wreath on top of his head and red baubles bedazzling his beard) asked, lumbering past. Alastor looked down at his leg, which he had placed a small red and green decoration around that he had enchanted to swirl about. 

"Who put that there?" he replied, not without a hint of playfulness, and Hagrid chuckled. 

"We've converted you yet! Here that kids?! Professor Moody's the new Saint Nick around here!" 

Moody tried to scowl. He really did.

As he was walking across the courtyard, he saw all the students running wild, playing in the snow, chatting, having snowball fights. He had been a solitary boy, never one for playing or talking with others. He was now surrounded by all these people, but had never felt more alone.

Sounds of sniffles caught Moody's hypersensitive ears, and he whipped around, following them with a narrowed eye. Was it a curse? Death Eaters?! The Dark Lord himself??!! He tried to be quiet about it, but his heavy, bombarding gait almost gave him away. He stopped behind a bush full of frosty wormwoods, and found a curtain of mousy brown hair, surrounding a hunched woman.

Oh. That was decidedly not the Dark Lord.

The closer Moody looked, the easier he could see her. It was the Divination professor, crying quietly by herself. His head told him to leave her be... but his intuition told him to approach her, and he'd be damned if he ignored his intuition.

"Pardon--"

"OH!" Her arms flew up, wits scattered once again. "Oh goodness me, oh... um, this isn't what it looks like! These... pesky wormwoods... oh... make me cry!"

Moody clutched his heart at her outburst, and sighed. "As I recall from the Herbology final that I passed with flying colours, inflicting tears is not a property of the wormwood." He scratched his head. "So... are you in distress?"

Sybill looked up. "Am I.. in d-distress?"

"You know, are you crying for a reason?" Moody asked gruffly, then quelled himself. "Are you _alright_?"

Sybill blinked those big eyes behind those big glasses, and tears welled up again. "Nobody's... ever asked me that. And meant it, really."

Moody spent a long time looking at her. "Mm. Me neither."

He sat at the other end of the bench, a sizeable space between them. Sybill sniffled, and scooted a bit closer. Another sniff, another scoot closer. Until...

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong or aren't you?" he snapped. Sybill's mouth closed, then opened. She stopped scooting closer, and gazed at him tiredly.

"Must I?"

Moody told himself he wasn't going to look into her eyes, but dammit, he had come this far. They were a stormy grey, that seemed as if they were almost hiding something deep; something she had tucked away, as no one had cared to listen before. She was sitting here alone, Christmas break from school approaching quickly, not a packed bag in sight.

"No. I suppose not."

"Good, with that pesky eye of yours and my wacky glasses, one would hope that one of us could see bloody clearly."

Alastor didn't know what to say, so he nodded. They sat there in deep thought, for about ten minutes more, just listening to everyone around them. The silence of their own little bubble was comforting, but they could still hear the shouts and laughter from around the grounds. Snow was falling. Without having to say a word, Sybill and Alastor had established some sort of common ground here... it was almost Christmas, and both were the loneliest souls for miles.

"Your husband--"

"Left."

"Your children--"

"None, I'm afraid."

"Your... your sisters? Brothers?" Alastor tried to think of others he could suggest to spend the holidays with. Sybill patted his knee softly. 

"I'm a solitary person, Professor Moody. One grows accustomed to the lecherous clutch of loneliness when one's heart is subject to it for years."

Dramatic woman, really, but Moody couldn't pretend he didn't relate. More laughter floated through the courtyard.

"Listen to them," Moody muttered.

"The happiness of children," Sybill sighed wistfully.

"The same children who think you've gone nutty?" he joked, then cringed, realizing that was out of place, and wasn't the best thing to say to a weeping woman. But Sybill just breathed a laugh, smiling sadly.

"The very same." She did her hair up in a loose bun with her wand, shaking her head in resignation. "Perhaps I have, professor."

Absently, Moody recalled something about her name. Trelawney... no... she couldn't be the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney! _Then, she was a Seer!_ Everything made sense.

"You're not mad. You're bloody brilliant!" Moody suddenly blurted, because his filter had broken a long time ago.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, eyes widening again.

" _Brilliant_ , you're a Seer," Moody said excitedly, grabbing her shoulder. He loosened his grip a little. "Here..." he motioned for her to lean closer, and she did, frowning a little. He looked around conspiratorially, as if the bushes could be listening. "Tell me what you see."

Sybill blinked. "Everything?"

"Everything."

She shrugged. "There's a patch of snow on your nose, and your funny eye's gone funnier--"

"Not what you see now, what you see in the future, woman!"

Sybill blushed, looking away. "My prophecies only come at unexpected-- embarrassing-- moments."

Moody felt bad. "Oh. Well, my apologies, I--"

"But I can teach you the art of Divination if you'd like."

"I had quite enough of that in school," Moody scoffed, "Too old to learn any more about the mystic arts now."

 "I see."

Moody side-eyed her, wondering if she had just made a pun. "What?"

"No no, I understand."

He narrowed his eye. "What...?"

"You're too brave and dangerous to learn the mystic arts, I understand."

"That's not what I--"

"Oh, my talents wasted again!" she sobbed into her arm, and Moody clenched his jaw, cursing himself again. He had no finesse whatsoever when dealing with anyone... the years had hardened him, and not in a good way.

"Here... fine, you can... you can tell me how to read a crystal ball... and all that rubbish."

Her head shot up, and she turned, grinning. "Lesson one. Learn to be empathetic." She poked his nose with a finger, and he frowned, fighting the infectious warmth that spread from her.

"What, am I not being empathetic now? I asked you how you were!"

Her spindley hands found their way to the rest of his face, again invading Moody's personal space that he wasn't quite sure at this point he needed.

"Ahhh, but you see, my darling, my dear man... one must begin to feel what they must themselves if one is to understand how someone else does."

Moody swallowed, surprised he actually caught her meaning. Bloody woman really was a Seer.

* * *

Alastor was making progress, now that he had the influence of someone else. He was trying his hardest not to be an "insufferable grump", as Sybill had so kindly put it, and it was showing.

"You seen Mad-Eye lately?" Ron Weasley whispered, "Gettin' soft, he is."

"Careful," Harry hissed back, "If he hears you say that, he'll have you serving a year's detention in the dungeons."

"Who?" Hermione joined the conversation.

"Mad Eye Moody," both boys answered, and quickly shut up as the man himself entered the classroom.

"Morning," he said gruffly, "Hope you all had a _lovely_ sleep."

"See what I mean?" Ron shook his head at the other two, "Bloody miracle."

"What was that Mr. Weasley?!" Moody barked.

"I-I said my sleep, sir, it was a b-bloody miracle, sir."

"Good to hear," Moody nodded curtly. "Today we'll be looking at bat b--" Just as he was turning, he noticed someone had stopped in front of the classroom entryway, waving a bag of treats around over her head.

"Alastor, your lunch and tea is just-- oh. Oh, dear me." Trelawney blushed, "You've got a class. Ohhh, my my my."

"Eh..." Alastor stood at the front awkwardly, looking away from everyone, "You can, eh... you can leave it. Here."

"Good," Sybil clutched at her chest in relief, "I was afraid you'd be upset with me, you know, with all the students watching and subsequently guessing at our intimate relationship."

"Intimate relationship?!" Hermione made a face.

"Yes my dear. You know, what you have with books?" Sybil replied with a perfectly pleasant smile, and Hermione growled angrily at her least favourite teacher. She got up and left in a huff. "Was it something I said?"

"Yes," Moody sighed, trying not to admire the other professor's eyes.

"Well, no matter. See you in the great hall for dinner, darling love," Sybil kissed his cheek, and Moody's mechanical eye rolled so far up that it got stuck.

"We'll discuss this later."

"In bed."

" _No_ \--"

"EWWWWW!!!"

Moody threw up his arms in surrender, watching the Divination professor sashay out of the room with a perky little wave. Yes, he supposed old Hogwarts brought out his good side, after all... no use fighting a woman with frizzy hair, comforting hands, and big, lovable eyes who kept him feeling whole again.


End file.
